


Crave

by silver_blacker



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_blacker/pseuds/silver_blacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone at the prison was having the time of their lives with the beers Daryl brought back from his last trip. Rick couldn't hold his drink and collapsed onto the floor. Daryl and Carol motioned to carry him back to his cell. A little sweet dialogue between these two lovely people as they attempted to melt the wall between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crave

Glenn was the first one to pass out. The asian kid laughed his childish laugh and collapsed onto the floor, knocking over his chair. Maggie squeaked as she pulled his arm trying to get him back on his feet, to no success. Glenn giggled and squirmed under his wife's touch, his mouth spilling some gibberish words that made no sense. The crowd roared with laughter. Hershel chuckled and told his daughter to get the boy back to his cell before he would hurt himself. Flushed, whether it was due to embarrassment or the alcohol, Maggie nodded and put down her drink. Sasha stood up and offered her help as she took the other arm of Glenn. Together, they dragged the drunk Glenn away.

"Once again, I have to thank you for bringing us these." Rick tapped his beer can and nodded at Daryl after everyone had settled down again. "I have almost forgotten how good they are." Daryl felt a bit uncomfortable when he felt everyone's eyes were on him. He fidgeted on his seat and managed to produce a reserved smile at his friend. "To Daryl!" Rick beamed at him, raising his beer as he stood.

"To Daryl!" The crowd echoed his words, all raising their drinks at Daryl.

Daryl shot Carol a nervous glance, and his restlessness was relieved slightly when she smiled reassuringly at him. He turned back to Rick and realised the folks were staring at him and expecting him to say something back. But talking was never his strongest strength, and his mouth immediately felt dry at the notion.

"It's nothin', brother." This response seemed to be a safe choice. "But we all owe our lives to you, for keepin' us from those things out there. To Rick!" He raised his beer as well, throwing back the attention of everyone at Rick. The crowd clapped and cheered for the sheriff. With not a single hint of discomfort on his expression, Rick laughed and pat on Daryl's shoulder with great enthusiasm. His slightly-stronger-than-usual force telling Daryl perhaps the man was at the edge of controlling his drinks as well. Indeed, when Rick was sitting down his movements were all wobbly and shaky. Daryl instinctively reached out to steady his friend, but the big guy fell on his ass nonetheless, sending the empty beer cans on the ground to spin like silver shadows. The crowd laughed as they continued on with their drinking and chatting. It had been a long while since they were this relaxed. Daryl thought they deserved a break.

"Come on, Rick, time for bed." Daryl shook his head and teasingly kicked his friend at his stomach. The man groaned and lied in a fetus position, his eyes shut, clearly unconscious.

"Our sheriff is after all not a heavy drinker." Carol sighed lovingly and sat down next to him. Unaware of when she had moved all the way across the crowd to his side, Daryl spun his head around and gave her a look of surprise.

"Wow woman, quiet as a cat." He nodded approvingly at her. "My time with you hasn't gone wasted."

"Well, I have a good teacher." She smiled. "Another one?" She lifted up another beer and asked.

The idea of another drink sickened him. Especially after six beers down, Daryl was feeling dizzy. Although his youth with Merle as his big brother had trained up his tolerance for alcohol, after such a long time without a single drop of it had greatly reduced his tolerance. He was afraid another round of beers and he would go down like Glenn and ended up needing someone else to help him back to his cell, which was totally unacceptable. God forbid, he had a reputation to keep in this place.

"Naw, I am good." He commented. His head started to ache. "Let's get Rick back to his cell."

He motioned to stand, but his legs felt weak and he was forced to sit back down.

"You ok?" Carol reached out and touched his forehead with the back of her hand.

Her touch suddenly seemed too much for him to handle. Her skin on his felt warm, and he was more than aware of where her hand was. He had a strange urge to lunge forward at Carol, but he did not recognise where would he go afterwards. It was like an animal instinct, the desire to do something. But he did not know what was the 'something' that he wanted to do. And so he just stared at her, his mind absent, his brain unable to form a command and tell his body what to do.

"Oh god, you ok?" Carol started giving him these worried looks. Her hand on his forehead moving from one spot to another. "You are quite warm."

"Yeah." He murmured. It was weird. Normally he would have flinched under such physical contact, and he would not in a million year stare at a human being for so long without feeling awkward. But the alcohol had made rather light-headed, and he cared not for the consequences of his action. He felt calm, and peaceful, just by looking at her. He just... wanted to look.

"Daryl?" Carol skeptically raised her brow, her hand lowered and clasped tightly on her laps with another. "You are scaring me."

The leaving of her touch brought Daryl back to reality. It was as if someone had slapped him on his face and cleared his thought. He felt more sober than ever. He blinked, suddenly realised what he had done. The recollection of him staring at Carol was dreadfully embarrassing, and he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and hide in it. Oh god, he messed up, he fucking messed up. His cheeks felt hot, and he was rather certain it was not due to the alcohol. He furiously rubbed his stubbled chin, as if it could wipe away the shameful memories.

"Naw, I am good." He repeated, his voice small and shy, strongly to his disliking. He cleared his throat. "Right, let's get the sheriff back. Come on." He attempted to stand again, and was slightly pleased when his legs were now strong and steady. Traitors.

"You sure you are fine?" Carol still seemed a bit uncertain at his condition. But she stood up as well.

"Yeah, woman. Do I need to do a back flip or somethin' to prove it to you? Come on!" He turned his back on her as he squatted down to put Rick's arm on his shoulder, unwilling to let her see how red his face must looked. "You helpin' or what?" He barked, his abashment turning into irritation.

Silently, Carol went to the other side and popped Rick up. Rick was heavy, and Daryl could not help but wonder how could Carol, so thin and fragile, support the weight of the man. Even half of it would be amazing for a woman in her size. But she made no complain as they motioned to drag the lifeless Rick along the hall way. Fine. Whatever.

"Hey buddy, do me a favour. Walk a bit yourself, a'right?" Daryl was starting to worry when Carol was slowing her pace down half way through the journey. He poked at the the man's ribs with his elbow. No response other than a grunt.

"I am fine, Daryl." Carol hissed. But she was clearly not fine. She was panting, and he swore he heard small groans of displeasure whenever she was moving.

_Fuck it, woman. Just say you are tired and we will stop. No need to put yourself through all this._

"Fat ass Rick," Daryl mocked, trying to lighten up the mood. "He will soon have a beer gut and I will laugh my ass off when he couldn't zip up his pants."

This drew a girly giggle from Carol, and the rest of the journey went smoothly without any obstacle. Daryl felt at ease. When they finally reached Rick's cell, they dumped him onto his bed and they both sighed in relief.

"That's for being irresponsible." Daryl said, ignoring Rick's quiet cry of pain as his body collided harshly with the hard mattress. Carol apparently found it amusing as she grinned at him.

He allowed himself to return the smile, before realising, fuck, he was staring at her again.

He made himself looked away and his hand reflectively reached out to scratch the back of his head. He leaned against the wall of the prison cell and tried to find a comfortable position, but his shoulders were obviously way too tensed for any possible comfort of any sort.

"Well, thank you." Daryl said, now staring at the heel of Rick's boot. He settled with his arm pressed between his body and the wall. "He was heavy, wasn't he?" He glimpsed at Carol.

"Quite," Carol smiled her usual warm smile and leaned against the wall as well. The way she looked so at ease when making a conversation was something he could never accomplish. "My shoulder kind of hurts for all the heavy lifting." She frowned and rotated her shoulders, her lips pressed together. Then she looked back at him, her blue eyes shining with anticipation.

_This scenario seemed familiar._

Daryl blinked, rather blankly. Wait, was he supposed to do something?

"Come on here," He tittered and waved her forward. "You should have said he was too heavy. We could have just left him in the corridor for the night."

"Daryl!" Carol laughed, slowly approaching him.

"I mean, just for a night." Daryl smirked. He turned Carol around and pressed his palm on her left shoulder.

"Ah." Carol cringed, and Daryl instantly retrieved his hand as if he would have burnt her.

"Sorry."

"No, please. Continue." Carol shrugged. "It just hurts."

A lot more careful this time, Daryl gently rubbed at the lean muscle on her shoulder. He heard her groaned in pain and knew she was bitting on her lips to stifle her cry. He needed to see the skin to determine if she had truly damaged her muscle.

"Could you... remove your cardigan?"

Wordlessly, Carol peeled off her outer garment, leaving only her light grey vest top on. He watched as she dropped the clothing onto the floor, as if it was nothing of value.

Daryl looked down onto the soaring redness that seemed extremely painful. She must had an immensely high tolerance for pain to not be screaming and kicking on the floor. Then he remembered Ed Peletier, the fucking bastard, the fucking abusive bastard. Of course she could endure pain after putting up with that fucker for those many years. A wave of sudden anger towards the dead man took over Daryl for a split second. He clutched his fists tightly as he grinned his teeth. He felt like strangling the man shall he reappeared in front of him. He would make that bastard feel sorry for his actions as he knocked his teeth right out. He would make him beg, for Carol's forgiveness for all that he had done to her and her daughter.

"Daryl?" Carol turned her head around and asked, after sensing that he hadn't made a move for a while.

"Still here." Daryl winced his nose and commanded himself to focus on the present. He must not think too much of it. A vermin like Ed deserved no attention from anyone.

Then almost timidly, Daryl placed his hand on Carol's exposed neck. Fuck, the area was all red and swollen. She needed ice, or Hershel, or Doctor S, not some country moron like him who knew only the simplest massage for mild back pain.

"I can't help." Daryl backed away from the woman and said, deflated. "You should go see Hershel in the mornin'. Must have torn a ligament or somethin'."

"Right." Carol muttered, a hint of sadness in her tone.

Daryl felt he had disappointed her, again. He was frustrated at himself, for not knowing better, for not asking her if the task was too much, for making her suffer. So after all, he was no different from Ed. He as well had hurt Carol, and she again had maintained her silence while the pain lingered. He blamed her back pain on himself. What was he thinking, asking a slender woman like her to carry a full grown man with him? What if that would cause permanent damage to her body? He knew Carol would not reject his request for assistance, but he had all so selfishly craved for those short moments where only he and her were together.

The way the woman leaned on his chest was very unexpected. He froze, processing what on earth was happening. Carol was pushing herself into his arms, the back of her head resting on his leather vest. He could smell the mixture of wood and earth from her short grey hair, the unique smell of Carol. He swore his heart stopped pounding at that brief moment. His straightened his arms while he was in the dilemma of whether he should wrapped them around her. He felt he should, but afraid the movement would be too bold and scare her off.

Then Rick suddenly made this loud groan in his sleep and reminded them of his presence and that they were in his cell. Carol jumped and quickly moved away from Daryl as she picked up her cardigan. Red-faced, Daryl scratched his scalp furiously and watched as the woman put her clothes back on. A light smile creep up his face when he noticed she was also blushing like him.

"Well, thanks, Daryl." She said, but her voice so quiet as if she was talking to herself. She bowed her head, almost too embarrassed to look at him. For that, Daryl was grateful. He as well was too busy checking if his shoelaces were all tied up to meet her gaze.

"You're welcome." Daryl nodded, although he was not so sure why she was thanking him, and his attention jumped from his left shoe to his right shoe after he had confirmed the laces were all tightly tied.

After Carol had left the cell in one swift movement, Daryl went to the bathroom and poured a glass of freezing water. He then returned to the cell and splashed it all over Rick's face. As Rick jumped up from his sleep and demanded an explanation in confusion, Daryl flipped him his middle finger, and said, "Fuck you."


End file.
